


Adventures of NORDA: the one where Eames is Clark Kent!

by bauble



Series: NORDA [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 17:13:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20660789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bauble/pseuds/bauble
Summary: Second fic in the Adventures of the Number One Recreational Dreamshare Agency series.Written forInception Bingo.   The prompt:beloved enemies.





	Adventures of NORDA: the one where Eames is Clark Kent!

"Welcome to Number One Recreational Dream Agency, the place where we make your dreams come true," Arthur says, ushering prospective clients inside. "Would you like a seat?"

Business has picked up ever since Eames' great aunt Temperance enlisted NORDA to recreate a startlingly violent memory involving her deceased husband. Since then, she's referred a steady stream of people, most of whom turn into paying customers and glorious streams of revenue.

Now that Arthur's got some working capital, he's started investing back into the business: upgrading the PASIV, stocking up on Somnacin, etc. He's considering what other improvements to make when he overhears one of his customers talking on the phone in the hallway outside NORDA's offices.

"Yes, I'm outside the offices and they're quite—what's the word—sinister? I thought I had the wrong address when I first arrived, but unfortunately... As I sat in a dreadful waiting room, I wondered if Temperance sent me to a black market organ harvesting operation as revenge for last Christmas—you know how spiteful she can be… I was ready to leave when a handsome gentlemen in a three piece suit stepped out and I thought, well, perhaps I could live with one less kidney if he were the one to remove it. Then, Temperance's grand-nephew, Eames—do you remember him?—came out and explained the entire situation."

Arthur frowns. Sinister? Christmas vengeance?

"I also stopped by another dreamshare organization which was rather nice, I must say, nothing sinister about them at all. Lovely offices designed by that famous architect—what was her name? The one who did that building in London and—nevermind, it'll come to me later. Anyway, it was quite soothing inside, rather peaceful, with a fountain. Of course I'll go with Temperance's recommendation, but..."

The client's voice fades and Arthur frowns even more deeply. There's only one other dreamshare organization she could be talking about, and Arthur knows exactly what he now has to do.

* * * * *

"You have to go undercover," Arthur tells Eames.

Eames continues to eat his tuna sandwich, seeming not to comprehend the urgency of the situation. "Must I?"

"We need to scope out our competition." Arthur sets his laptop down in front of Eames. "Look at this gorgeous website. How much do you think they spent on this website? And commissioning a starchitect to design their offices? What are they, made of money?"

Eames squints at the screen and presses play on the promotional video. An uplifting jingle plays as an extremely attractive man fills the screen. "Hi, my name is Xander Cheng. Welcome to the Dream Perfumerie. We invite you to come visit us at our newly renovated offices where we like to dream big, dream beautiful, and dream happy."

"God, he's got a promotional video now," Arthur says, heart sinking. "How much do you think he spent on that video?"

"Hm?" Eames says, still staring at the paused image of Xander smiling alluringly. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"We need to see those offices," Arthur says, closing the video with a small noise of protest from Eames. "No photos on the website. I heard they have a fountain."

"Is it a fountain of perfume? Because otherwise the name makes no sense," Eames says. "Perfumerie? That's not even how it's spelled."

"I got you a disguise. You can book an appointment pretending to be a prospective customer," Arthur says. "You'll be hooked up to a live camera so I can see the interior with you."

"As much as I love a good game of subterfuge, is there any particular reason why you can't perform this little mission?"

Arthur shifts, uncomfortable. "Xander used to work in extraction, too. He'd recognize me for sure."

Eames raises an eyebrow. "And…?"

"And he's my arch-nemesis!" Arthur crosses his arms over his chest. "He opened his business the same month as we did, and in the same city! Seriously, what the hell."

"There it is," Eames says. "And what is to be my reward for all this skullduggery?"

"Isn't my peace of mind and the improvement of NORDA enough reward?" At Eames' unimpressed expression, Arthur adds, "Okay, we can order a sausage pizza tonight. You choose."

Eames' face lights up as he opens a gay hookup app on his phone. "Anyone I like?"

"Well, not anyone—" Arthur peers over Eames' shoulders at the hundreds of profiles. "Pick someone I'll like, too."

"Yes, I'm sure I will," Eames says absently as he begins messaging PedrosBigCock69. "Tonight at seven?"

"Better make it eight." Arthur retrieves the outfit he'd purchased earlier. "You need to try on your disguise."

"My—" Eames pauses.

"Ordinary clothes for your regular old customer," Arthur says, presenting the clothing with a flourish.

Eames holds up the pair of cutoff jeans. "Who wears these?"

"Just be normal, Eames," Arthur says. "Be normal in your totally normal clothes and Xander won't suspect a thing."

* * * * *

Arthur doesn't get a chance to see Eames off in his undercover mission to the Dream Perfumerie. Once Arthur finishes up with a client, however, he retreats to the back office to tune in to the live camera.

Just in time to catch Eames and Xander shaking hands. 

"And you must be Archibald… Cattington?" Xander says.

There's a long pause before Eames says, "Yes. That's me. Archibald."

The camera is built into the glasses Eames is wearing, and provides a good view of Xander's spectacular bone structure. As Xander starts giving Eames a tour of the office, the camera swings down to focus on Xander's ass. Arthur sighs.

Once Eames manages to rip his eyes away from Xander's numerous assets, the rest of the sleek, brightly lit office comes into view. Though it looks less like an office and more like a spa, with light wood and a delicate fountain and glasses of refreshing cucumber water. It is, Arthur has to grudgingly admit, a beautiful space.

Damn his fiendishly competent and sexy arch-rival.

"It was very nice to meet you… Archibald," Xander says at the end of the meeting. He shakes Eames' hand again and holds on for a minute too long. "Please let me know if there's anything else I can do for you."

"Oh," Eames' voice has taken on that familiar gravely tone he uses when he's flirting. "I absolutely will."

Arthur frowns when the camera lingers on Xander's admittedly luscious mouth. This is not the reconnaissance Eames was tasked with doing.

After another long moment, Eames reluctantly releases Xander's hand and leaves the Dream Perfumerie.

* * * * *

Eames is not wearing the disguise Arthur gave him. He has, in typical Eamesian fashion, styled himself not only in new clothing (skinny jeans and a flannel shirt) but also dyed his hair, put in brown contacts, and overlaid that with his thick plastic camera glasses.

It's horribly distracting. Arthur detests it. Yes.

"I walked through all the common areas, the office, and the bathroom, but couldn't get to the rooms in the back. Probably staff-only, so we might not be missing much," Eames rattles off his report in a business-like fashion. "I also took some pamphlets and reading material in case you were interested in his promotional strategy."

"Seemed like you enjoyed that visit to the Perfumerie," Arthur says. "Surprised you had a chance to notice anything else with the way you were staring at Xander."

"You know the glasses camera never properly follows my eye-line—" Eames stops and takes a step closer to Arthur. "Are you jealous?"

"No," Arthur replies, heart thudding painfully with the question: _will you leave me for his superior recreational dreamshare business?_ "Why would I be jealous of a gorgeous, successful small business owner with custom-made silk drapes and hand-carved furniture in his ideally situated office location? I wouldn't be, that's why." 

"Darling," Eames' voice softens for a moment. "You do know that I don't work at NORDA for the measly salary and dubious benefits plan, don't you?"

"The payscale here is very competitive," Arthur protests. "And what do you need benefits for? You sleep all day!"

"Not the point I was attempting to make." Eames touches Arthur's cheek thoughtfully. "What is it about this man?"

Arthur is saved from having to answer by the office door swinging open and the man in question stepping inside. "Hello, Arthur," Xander says. "And hello, Archibald—or should I say _Eames_?"

"Goddamnit," Arthur says.

"Did you really think that after a decade of working in extraction, I'd somehow not recognize Eames just because he put on some glasses?" Xander says. "Although Clark Kent is a good look on you, Eames, keep rocking it."

"Ah, well," Eames ducks his head and preens. "Terribly good of you to say so."

"Hey," Arthur says, taking a step forward. "You stop that. You do not get to come over here to my business and hit on my employees. Have some respect."

"As the employee in question, I'd like to state for the record that I have no objection to being hit on," Eames says.

"The rumors are true, huh?" Xander leans in the doorway, T-shirt drawing tight in an unfairly mouthwatering way over his bicep. "You didn't tell me you'd officially shacked up with The Eames."

"This 'shacking up' has been a relatively recent development. It's only been the past year, six months, three weeks, and two days, not that I'm counting," Eames says. Xander's slight smirk doesn't fade and Arthur is silent, can practically hear the wheels grinding in Eames' head. Eames turns. "Arthur."

"I may have—known--Xander, better than I let on before," Arthur says, haltingly.

"That's one way of putting it," Xander says.

Arthur clears his throat. "And perhaps more recently. Known him."

Eames exhales noisily. "Have you been fucking the competition this entire time?"

"What? No. That makes it sound like an ongoing, sordid—" Arthur shakes his head. "It's not like that. We're frenemies. Who occasionally fuck."

"Frenemies with benefits," Xander cheerfully volunteers. "Frenefits. Enemifits."

"Is this why you sent me into his lair?" Eames says, sounding exasperated along with, Arthur hopes, a twinge of amused. "So your sidepiece wouldn't know you were trying to steal his ideas?"

"I reject the term 'lair,'" Xander interjects. "This place is far more lair-like than my Perfumerie could ever be. You even have someone ready to rip his shirt off and become superman here."

"Are you making a pass at Eames while simultaneously insulting my office?" Arthur asks.

"I was hoping to make a pass at both of you at the same time." Xander pushes off the door and strolls towards them, stride loose and confident. "Because I honestly don't give a fuck about your office."

"On that, we firmly agree," Eames says as he more or less shoves his tongue down Xander's throat.

Arthur watches the two of them make out for a few minutes, the insistent pressure in his pants dueling with his principled desire to take a stand for—something. He's not really sure what. But he thinks he should be standing up for something.

Then clothes start coming off and Arthur realizes that two gorgeous men are about to have sex in front of him. There's really only one rational response to this situation.

Join them.

* * * * *

After some enjoyable threesome action at the office (now one of Arthur's top favorite office activities), Eames and Arthur return home to hot showers and cuddling. Arthur cozies up to Eames' side in bed and prepares for an excellent night's sleep.

"About Xander," Eames says, and Arthur opens his eyes.

"That was fun," Arthur says, cautious. "Did you have fun?"

"Yes," is Eames' reply, but he seems to be working up to something more. "I know we agreed not to share the details of our—external partners with each other." Arthur grins at how Eames can make even random hookups sound upscale. "But I was under the impression we'd discuss anyone who became more than—a dalliance."

"Xander? Oh, that's not—I told you, frenemies with benefits is all. Infrequent and not a big deal." Arthur kisses Eames' pectoral and closes his eyes again.

"He seemed to spark a great deal of emotion for a simple frenemy with benefits."

"Nah, it's just nice to talk to someone else as passionate about building their dreamshare business as I am." Arthur yawns, already half-way to unconsciousness. But Eames doesn't reply, shallow breaths indicating he hasn't dozed off. Arthur sits up. "Baby?"

Eames is staring at the ceiling, blinking rapidly, jaw tight. "Yes, of course," he says, voice gruff, "you can go be capitalist American swine together. Roll around in all your money."

"Not naked, though. Did you know that paper money can carry more germs than a toilet?" Arthur tries to lighten the mood and fails. Eames still won't look at him. "What's wrong? I thought you had fun."

"I did. It's not about the sausage pizza."

"Then…" Arthur sighs. "Baby, you have to help me understand. I'm not as good at this talking and feelings stuff as you are."

"Arthur, I love you." Eames' words sound as if they are being forced out through gritted teeth. "And I am frightened that you might—leave me."

"What?" Arthur stares at him, bewildered. "Why?"

To Arthur's surprise, Eames chuckles and scrubs a hand over his own face. "Because apparently I become possessive and insecure when confronted by a handsome, successful businessman with a fantastic cock. The entire time he was fucking you, all I could do was wonder why you were moaning differently than you did with me."

"Well, it's not a competition," Arthur says, trying to be reasonable about it. He sees instantly that is the wrong thing to say. "Of course I like the way you fuck me the best."

"Nevermind. This was foolish." Eames turns onto his side, back to Arthur. "You have an early morning tomorrow and I shouldn't keep you up any longer with nonsense."

"Eames, no." Arthur squeezes his bicep and scoots closer. He thinks for a minute, trying to figure out what to say. "I love you and I want to be with you forever. No one has done as much for NORDA as you have, or for me, and maybe I don't show you how much I appreciate that often enough. But there's no comparison between you and Xander, at all."

Arthur watches carefully as Eames glances back over his shoulder at him. "No comparison?"

"How could there be when I get to wake up next to the sexiest guy in the world every day?" Arthur's not good at fancy speeches like Eames is, doesn't know how to dress up how he feels in anything more than plain words. Arthur covers his chest, his beating heart, with Eames' open palm and hopes it's enough. "I won't have sex with Xander anymore."

Eames stares at his hand. "I don't want to restrict your freedom."

"You're the best thing in my life." Arthur kisses Eames' hand and coaxes him onto his back again, crawls on top of him. "You make me happier than I've ever been."

"I want you to be able to do what you want." Eames blinks up at Arthur, mouth a solemn line.

"I am doing what I want." Arthur cradles Eames' face in his hands and kisses him. Eames kisses back, more sweetly than any words Arthur could summon.

* * * * *

Much later, after Arthur has blanketed Eames' face with more kisses, Eames whispers with barely a breath, "You want to be with me forever?"

"Enough to give up other sausages." Arthur kisses the scar across Eames' eyebrow—dyed dark, to match his hair. 

"Number One Recreational Dream Agency." There's a hint of smile pulling at the edge of Eames' mouth. "Making dreams come true."

fin


End file.
